Comfort for the Hurting
by Mother Nature's Daughter
Summary: She hadn’t talked about it to anyone since it happened. But then Sawyer came to sit beside her, and his compassion was so real that she could feel the words spilling from her lips like water, and she did nothing to stop them. ConMama friendship with PB&J.


**Author's Note:** So, thanks to the heartbreaking, nail-biting ending to episode 4x10, this might be AU...or maybe I should just say takes place BEFORE "Something Nice Back Home". Either way, after two weeks ago, 4x9, I couldn't NOT write something with Sawyer and Claire. That was hackin' adorable, man. Hope you all enjoy!

**Summary**: She hadn't talked about him or what happened or how she felt or anything since she'd found out. She hadn't talked about it to anyone at all. Not even to Hurley. But then he came, and he called her sweetheart, and his compassion was so genuine and so strong and so _not him_…that she felt the words pour from her mouth like water, and she did nothing to stop them. Claire/Sawyer friendship; mentions Charlie/Claire.

* * *

**Comfort for the Hurting**

She stared into the fire, her gaze unwavering, but she was not actually seeing the flames dance or hearing them cackle and pop. Aaron was asleep beside her and one hand was resting absently on his head; but her thoughts were far, far away. He watched her: the way the wind softly blew her hair; the way the fire's glow reflected off her face; and the way her bright blue eyes glistened with the tears she was too weary to shed.

And he was positive that he knew where her thoughts were at that moment.

Silently, he stood up and came over to her. She didn't look up as he approached, and he was certain she didn't even know he was there. In fact, it was not until he sat down right beside her and hesitantly touched her shoulder that she even focused her gaze any place but in the fire.

"You all right, sweetheart?" Sawyer asked, his eyes softened with compassion, his voice a whisper with caring. His hand rested gently on her shoulder.

Claire sniffed quietly and took her hand off Aaron's baby-soft head to wipe her watery eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine," she answered. She looked over at him and smiled; but it was strained and Sawyer wasn't fooled. "I'm okay."

"You sure?" His hand moved from her shoulder to her back, gentle and comforting. He rubbed his palm flat on her shoulder blades, but he wasn't flirting or trying to pull anything. He was concerned for her, and behaving like a concerned friend would. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Claire closed her eyes. She hadn't talked about it—about _him_—since it had happened. She hadn't said a word about how she felt or how she was doing or anything—not even to Hurley. It didn't hurt if she didn't think about it; it didn't hurt if she made just made coffee and laughed like everything was all right. But everything wasn't all right…

And the ides of thinking about it was painful. The idea of talking about it was worse—unbearably so. But now Sawyer was here comforting her, and he'd called her sweetheart, and his compassion was so genuine and so strong and so _not him_…that she could feel words forming on her lips and threatening to spill from her like water, and she couldn't stop them even if she wanted to.

"Oh, Sawyer, it's just… I just can't stop thinking about being back at the beach. You know, I haven't been back to the beach—or…seen the ocean—since Charlie…" Her voice cracked, and Sawyer stopped his rubbing and instead just wrapped his arm around her shoulders, as if trying to protect her from the grief that was inside.

She took a moment to recover and then looked up at him helplessly. "How can I go and stay on the beach, everyday seeing the ocean that killed him?"

Sawyer's face was clouded with his pain and with hers. Because as soon as she said the word 'killed', the tears she'd been holding back since the night she'd heard the news all came out. She sobbed; "I don't know how I'm going to get through this," she confessed, leaning into his embrace. "I don't even know if I can. It all seems so unreal that I can hardly get it through my head. How can he really be gone? How could Charlie just suddenly have left me?"

Sawyer was quiet, hoping that this was one of those moments where saying nothing at all was the best thing to do. He was relatively new to the whole ' being nice and caring about people' club, and trying to comfort a woman that's lost the man she loves was uncharted territory to him. What should he even say to her, when nothing could take the hurt away?

Claire, fortunately, didn't seem to mind his silence. Maybe just being here beside her would be enough. She cried into his shoulder for a minute before choking out, speaking like she was struggling to accept the truth: "He's not coming back, Sawyer. Charlie's really not coming back."

The pitiful way her voice broke tugged at Sawyer's heart, and he knew he had to say something. "No," he agreed, softly, so it wouldn't come out as harsh. "But he loved you. He loved you and Aaron so much, Claire—so much that he died to save you."

"But he died for nothing, Sawyer!" Claire said, her voice suddenly thick and loud with grief and other emotions. "The people on the boat aren't here for us. We're not getting rescued. And it's my fault," her face crumpled as more sobs came, "it's all my fault, because he died to save me. It's my fault he's dead."

Her words hounded Sawyer until he lifted his arm from around her shoulders, and turned so he could look her right in the eyes. "No, Claire," he said firmly. "It's _not your fault_. Don't you blame yourself. He knew what he was doing. It was his choice."

She sobbed harder. "But why would he choose that? Why would he willingly choose to die? Choose to leave me?"

Sawyer hated himself in that moment more than he had ever hated himself before. _Why_ had he said it like that? That was probably the dumbest word choice he could have chosen to use. Oh, God, he was bad at this thing—oh, he was such an idiot. He was trying to comfort her, not make her feel worse.

And so, in an attempt to atone his mistake, Sawyer made what he thought was the most meaningful speech of his entire life.

"Jesus Christ, Claire, do you think he would have _chosen_ to go down there if he wasn't absolutely sure it would save you and Aaron? Do you think he _wanted_ to leave? I think—I _know_—that he didn't want to die. I saw the way he looked at you. He wouldn't have left you for the world, unless he thought it was the best thing for the two of you. Because I know that there was nothing in this world more important to him than you and that baby."

Claire cried harder than ever, but Sawyer was sure that this time it wasn't because he'd said the wrong thing and caused her pain, but because he'd said the _right_ thing and it meant something to her. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arm back around her shoulders and let her cry in his shirt for as long as she needed.

Maybe it wasn't so bad after all, being nice to people.


End file.
